Traveling here, wandering there. Sleeping in ridged airports, cold over night buses, sticking out my thumb for a random adventure. There is no plan, I don't know where I'm going, and I couldn't tell you the day or time. Forget about luck, it's travel magic, I'll summit the inner mountain. Depending on the night I'll sleep in a stranger's house, rest up in a hostel, or survive in my tent when all else fails. If it's in front of me I'll eat it and if it won't kill me I'll drink it.
Walking, walking, walking.
If it's hot, it's hot. If it's cold, I probably won't go. No matter how light I pack, my backpack is always too heavy. Even though I've been wearing the same blue shirt and black swimming shorts for 1, 2, or has it really been 3 years I've been wearing the same shirt?
मैं अंग्रेजी नहीं बोलता
No hablo Inglés
أنا لا يتكلمون الإنكليزية
Always on the run, catching my breath when I can. Exhausted, yet filled with cosmic energy.